


Once Upon A Time in The Future

by vinegardog



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegardog/pseuds/vinegardog
Summary: 100 cycles have passed since John Cricton visited the Royal Planet





	Once Upon A Time in The Future

**Author's Note:**

> It contains spoilers for Season 2 of the show

Written for Starburst Challenge # 100 hosted by A Damned Scientist

Warning: I started this fic probably close to 6 years ago, got bored with it and never finished it. Which it kind of bothered me because I hate not finishing things that I start! So when the challenge was announced I thought it might be a good chance to look at it again and give it an ending. So here you have it. If it is disjointed, I am going to blame it on the time lapse between the start and the finish of it and not my lack of writing prowess! :D

Set at various times after PKWs.

Rating - PG

Word count circa 5200

As always I proclaim my love for the characters of this great show but disclaim owning any of them.

Thanks to A Damned Scientist for reading this first, for his comments and for the challenge that encouraged me to revisit this idea!

**Once Upon a Time in the Future (PG)**

_A powerful kick in the abdomen woke Aeryn up with a start. This was her third pregnancy but she still could not get over the feeling of a baby turning inside of her. D’Argo’s gestation had been brief and unorthodox to say the least, the next one and the current one however had been pretty much run of the mill or as run of the mill as she imagined gestations of half human babies could be. Of course she had no frame of reference, but she suspected that all the kicking and constant pushing down on her bladder, which made her life so uncomfortable on a daily basis late in her pregnancy, came from John’s genetic half. She couldn’t prove it of course but she was pretty certain of it._

_She turned towards John’s side of the bed craving his habitual warm embrace that somehow seemed to calm her and their baby like a miraculous balm, but found just crumpled up sheets and an empty space. With back aching and movements seriously impeded by her large belly, she got up, wore a robe and headed straight for the roof top terrace of their home. She was sure John would be there, looking up at the stars – that was his favourite spot when sleep eluded him._

\-----------------

Her room was on the far side of the right wing of the Imperial Palace and her large window overlooked beautifully manicured gardens dotted by small ponds, criss-crossed by wooden walkways and inhabited by colourful and delightful song birds. A sight that normally would fill her with calm and joy to be alive… normally, but not today.

Today her gaze barely skimmed along such beauty taking none of it in. Today she stood straight-backed and tense at the window, arms crossed, forehead scrunched up in an angry frown, bright blue eyes clouded over with internal turmoil.

Just a few moments ago she had ran her old nursemaid, Dita - the woman who had raised and nurtured her in her mother’s frequent absences, the woman who had wiped the tears from her eyes when she had skinned her knees playing with the other children and held her through so many of her night terrors – right out of her room with uncharacteristic harsh words and a peremptory dismissal that her grandmother, the now departed Empress Novia, would have been ashamed and proud of at the same time.

She sighed: remorse was already seeping through her anger and making her feel wretched. She would apologise and the old woman would gratefully hug her and immediately forgive her making her feel even worse for her uncalled-for meanness. But no! She would think about apologies later, now all she wanted to do was confront her mother and force her to give her an explanation. She was fully entitled to it. The more she thought of how she had been left in the dark for the last 20 cycles, the more her throat burned with the bitterness of betrayal and constricted with the effort of holding in a scream of frustrated anger. Her fists curled by her side as she resisted the impulse to smash against the wall some of the exquisite and expensive trinkets adorning her dresser.

Her mother was due back from a session at the Government Central Building any microt now. She would give her time to return to her chambers, refresh and then she would finally face her – she would accept no less than a full and honest explanation. She knew her best hope to get results would be to ask in a mature, controlled manner - a manner her mother would not be able to dismiss as a childish tantrum - and that is exactly what she intended to do.

She turned away from the window and stopped in front of the full length mirror hanging beside her bed. She looked at the reflection and what she saw there was a stranger. Her mountain-lake clear blue eyes, her light brown long hair, her full lips and fair complexion, her whole face - no less than beautiful if one was to believe anybody who had ever met her - all of it looked different to her today. She knew it didn’t make any sense. Logically she knew that what she had found out did not really change who she was, that it should not make her feel this way about herself. Was she over-reacting? Was she making out of this more than she should? Maybe. But that did not change the fact that she suddenly felt lost and rudderless and unable to let go of a sudden feeling of utter alienation from her own body and mind, of not belonging in her own skin. Of not belonging, full stop.

After a long time, when her legs started aching from mere standing, she shook herself from her reverie:“Perdita, you can do this!” she told herself while wiping tears away she had not realised she had shed.

She tidied her white long flowing dress and with an apparent firmness and security of step belied by her internal tremors and queasy stomach, she left her quarters and headed for the Imperial Chambers. She ignored the respectful greetings of several guards stationed en route along the corridors, her nervous energy propelling her forward, her focus unwavering.

When she got to her mother’s door, she knocked three times and waited to be admitted.

Crannus, one of the oldest, most faithful butlers in service to Empress Katralla, and almost a member of the family as far as Perdita was concerned, opened the door and, on seeing her, smiled and made way for her, but quickly added: “Your Highness, the Empress returned from the Government Buildings not so long ago, however she is now in conversation with one of the ministers in her private reception room. She will be at least another half an arn but you are of course welcome to wait for her here. When possible I will let her know of your presence, it may give her an excuse to extricate herself from the meeting… “

“Thank you Crannus, I would be grateful if you could do that. I will however wait here for as long as it takes”. She gracefully but firmly walked towards the large window dominating the room and turned her back to the old man not wanting to continue in idle conversation, which would only contribute to her irritation and restlessness, and, even more than that, not wanting to lose her patience with him as she had done not so long ago with poor, dear Dita.

After about 1000 microts or so, her legs started shaking again. Even though she hated to admit such weakness to herself, she still felt quite frail after the prolonged illness that had confined her in the Royal Infirmary and then in her room for over three weekens and, even though she would have preferred to meet her mother standing , she gave in and sat on one of the several cushioned sofas in the room.

The illness was what had started all of this. If only she had listened to Dita and not wandered off into that marsh in search of exotic flowers, she probably would not have contracted the rheumatic fever that had almost killed her. And, still unsuspecting of anything, she would have kept leading a carefree existence. Ignorance in this case would truly have meant bliss.

But that was not to be: the fact was that she had ignored Dita, she had wandered off and she had gotten ill.

Without falling ill she certainly wouldn’t have had the need to get tested over and over again by the best doctors her planet’s Medical Academy had to offer and by a few more from outlying planetary systems brought in as consultants in the search of the underlying cause of her persisting malady.

The most brilliant of scientists had frantically tried to keep her alive day after day but, alas, the most advanced of known medical remedies had repeatedly failed, leaving the doctors at a loss: they had never come across such inexplicable resistance to a cure for a an ailment - a simple fever - that most Sebaceans would get over in matter of arns with no lasting effects; and they certainly had never seen any young, strong Sebacean succumb to it with such severity. Confounded, the luminaries had therefore reached the conclusion that this extreme illness might be the result of some sort of sophisticated and engineered poisoning rather than a natural disease and, failing all else, they had resorted to testing her DNA.

The results had of course been kept from her and shared only with her mother and her father.

Whatever the DNA testing had revealed however, it had allowed the physicians to make a few adjustments to dosage and components and the medicines had finally started working. Her fever had abated and with great relief, after two weekens of hovering between life and death, she had been pronounced out of danger.

It was not until she was well on her way to recovery - that very afternoon in fact - that Perdita had arrived early at her check up appointment with the Royal Physician. She had found his office chambers empty and because of her innate natural curiosity that so often got her into trouble combined with a certain amount of boredom due to the waiting, she had started going through the files lying on the Doctor’s desk.

She had not been looking for anything in particular, just passing the time, but when her eyes had fallen on her name showing on the front cover of a thick file, it had been only natural for her to pick it up and open it. The medical terminology had confused her at first and she had almost lost interest a quarter of the way down the first page, when something had jumped out at her; something she had to go over three times before really understanding what it was: her DNA results.

Surely there must have been a mistake, what she was reading was not possible… or she was reading it wrong! She had almost laughed at the absurdity of what she was seeing…however it was right there, black on white, staring at her and no amount of denial would change the fact that she - Her Royal Highness Princess Perdita of the Royal Planet of the Breakaway Colonies - was only half Sebacean.

She had felt dizzy and her knees, already weak from the long illness, had buckled from under her. Luckily, a well positioned chair had broken her fall and stopped her from collapsing to the floor completely.

After a few microts of dazed incredulity, Perdita had forced herself to continue reading the medical report in her hands: They had been unable to identify the species of the other half of her DNA - the paternal half - as no sample of such DNA was on file at the Royal Medical Academy, however the similarities of the alien DNA to the Sebacean one had made it possible for them sufficiently to understand the differences and pinpoint the weaknesses in it that needed to be addressed to find a cure.

The medical report had then moved on to the particulars of the changes made to the medication administered to the Princess…but Perdita had already lost all interest at that point and had stopped reading.

Disbelief and certainty that a comical mistake had been made addled her brain. It was ridiculous. She was Perdita. She was the only daughter of Empress Katralla and her consort, Prince Tyno. She was the heir to the throne. She was Sebacean. Her parents were Sebacean… were they not?

The doctor had just then re-entered his chambers and had found her still staring at the file, pale and wide-eyed with confusion. He had ordered her to lie down and scolded her for reading something which had not been meant for her eyes. She had ignored him and interrupted him mid-flow with a clear, concise question:

“Doctor, am I Sebacean? And if I am not, who is my father?”

The doctor had suddenly fallen silent and refused to give her an answer, his only comment being:

“Your Highness, you should discuss this with your parents, it is not my place to divulge any such information.”

A non-answer that had been corroboration of her worst fears.

And now here she was waiting with trepidation to have all of those fears confirmed by the one person that knew the whole truth and could once and for all put her out of her uncertainty and misery.

She dearly loved her father. Tyno had always been there for her, in many ways a lot more than her mother had ever been, given how always so busy with affairs of State she was. Her earliest memories were of Tyno playing silly games with her on the floor of her nursery, of his soft voice encouraging her in anything and everything she attempted, his serious but affectionate support always a constant in her life.

She also knew how much her mother loved him: he was her rock, her support, her wise advisor in private and public matters. A quiet but solid and irreplaceable presence in both their lives – did he know she was not his daughter? And if he did know, how had he been able to accept it and put it behind him in such a completely selfless and loving way? If he didn’t know, was she about to bring something up that would wound him to his very soul? That was the last thing she would want to do but at the same time she just had to know…

The opening of the private reception room door jolted her out of her tormented doubts. Her mother looked tired but Perdita had to admire how still extremely self-possessed and courteous to the elderly man who had come to consult with her she managed to be. Empress Katralla was a loved sovereign and not in small part because of the selfless dedication to her people that never failed her.

Katralla’s eyes fell on Perdita sitting in the ante chamber and a genuine smile of pleasure lit up her features making her immediately look a lot younger and even prettier than normal. Crannus, as if conjured up from nowhere, appeared and escorted the Minister out of the room leaving the two women alone.

“My dear, it is so good to see you! It has been a long day and you are a balm for my eyes… how are you feeling today? Did you go to the doctor’s appointment and what did he say? Is your energy returning to normal levels?” Katralla sat beside her daughter and lifted her hand to stroke her cheek but Perdita pulled back from her even though her first instinct had been to throw herself in her mother’s arms for comfort and reassurance.

Katralla frowned: “What’s wrong, my sweetness? “ The immediate response to her question was her daughter’s chin lifting in defiance and tears flooding those large bluer-than-blue eyes of hers.

“Who is my father?” Perdita blurted out. She had prepared a long, reasonable, mature speech and she had rehearsed it over and over in her mind but when it had came to the crunch, all she could do was blurt out the question. Anything more would have surely ended up in a deluge of tears and indecipherable, embarrassing babble.

Startled Katralla replied “My dear, you know Tyno is your father! What is wrong with you? Why do you ask?” She extended a hand towards her daughter to check her forehead, fearing the fever might have returned but Perdita drew back from her like a scolded drannit.

“You are lying to me Mother! I found out today that half of my DNA is not Sebacean! That it is of unknown origins…alien origins. I have the right to know who my real father is and I will not abide any more lies from you!” Perdita stated in such imperious manner, that Katralla was left in no doubt that one day her daughter would make for a great ruler just like her own mother had been.

However that proud, fleeting thought was immediately drowned in her mind by the huge shock and surprise of her daughter bringing up events from such a faraway past. It was scarcely believable to her but, after all, a whole 100 cycles had passed since Perdita had been begotten! A whole 100 cycles which had clearly made her, Katralla, complacent and unprepared for this moment. Somehow - and wrongly so, she now realized - she had managed to bury that faraway past in the very back of her mind and to carry on with her life as it had never happened.

For at least half of her 80 cycles as a statue with Tyno by her side she had feared this day, the day when she would have to explain to her offspring the circumstances of her conception.

But then Perdita had been born and cycles had gone by with the three of them living as a happy family and her fears had slowly receded and, to her shame, her cowardice had triumphed. She had not even brought up the subject with her husband for a long time now as she knew how much pain and regret he had always felt for not having been able to give her children, even though the problem had not been his but rather her own poisoned DNA. Poor, dearly beloved Tyno.

Katralla sat in silence for a long time looking down into her lap and through the mists of time, then she lifted her eyes and took in the true distress shining out of her cherished daughter’s eyes - those eyes that were neither hers or Tyno’s - and she suddenly knew that the day for honesty had finally arrived. She straightened her back, folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath: today would be the day that she finally would relive the events of 100 cycles ago and tell Perdita the truth about her origins.

She owed it to her and she owed it to the alien who had changed her life so completely.

She had not thought about him for a long time. The memories of that time - her brother’s betrayal, her anguish about her inability to produce an heir - all flooded back, made however far less painful and dimmed somewhat by the soothing balm of the passage of time. What was not dimmed in any way in her mind however was the memory of the man that had given her the greatest gifts of her life: her daughter and her husband. He had been honorable. He had been brave. He had been ready to stand by her and their child and when unable to do so, he had made it possible for her to be with the love of her life. He had made sure that all of her dreams would come true. He was a good man, a man whose existence she should not have denied or kept hidden.

“Mother?” Perdita probed, angry and worried about her mother’s distracted, far away look.

Katralla took her daughter’s hand in hers, squeezed it and in a firm voice began telling her the truth:“My dear, what I am about to tell you may surprise you. You may have heard this name before during your history lessons about the Peacekeeper/Scarran conflict of 98 cycles ago…”

“Mother, what are you talking about?” Perdita interrupted her, annoyed and confused as to what any of this had to do with her and her true parentage.

Katralla smiled reassuringly and continued: “His name, your sire’s name, is John Crichton...”

 

\---------------------

_The last 10 cycles had been happy. The happiest of his life. He was blessed with a woman whom he loved more every day, although that was a strange paradox given that every day he thought he could not love her more. They had two beautiful, healthy children, strong in mind and body and one more on the way. They had friends they could rely on without doubt or hesitation, friends who would run to their help if called upon and who, over the years, had made sure to stay close. Friends who were no less than family._

_After a few cycles roaming the skies on Moya, they had finally settled planetside as they had come to realize that this was what was best for their growing family. Rygel had refused to accept no for an answer and they had made their home on one of Hyneria’s most suitable planets - balmy, rich and perfect for their needs. The place had slowly but surely become a cherished home and they were happy._

_John had no reason to complain. None whatsoever. But every so often sleep would elude him. He would toss and turn in his bed until he’d finally get up, not wanting to disturb Aeryn’s slumber, and he’d give in to the pressing need to go outside to look up at the stars._

_Tonight was one of those nights._

_He stood on the rooftop terrace of their home and let his mind wander to a far away planet where a Princess, frozen in time as a statue, cocooned in her womb his little lost girl._

_“Come back to bed, John.” Aeryn’s voice, made of smoky velvet, reached him just before her arms encircled him from behind and held him tight against her, their unborn child gently pressed against his back._

_He squeezed his wife’s hands resting on his chest and said:”Sorry I woke you up, Aeryn. I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about her and…” There was no need to explain who ‘her’ was. Aeryn knew. Aeryn always knew what was in his heart._

_“I know. She is going to be okay. She will be loved.” Aeryn buried her face in the nape of his neck and inhaled his oh-so-heady to her Human male scent. She wished she could do more to make him feel better. She wished she could take this one regret and pain away from his life._

_He squeezed her hands again, looked up at the starry sky one more time, turned around, placed a kiss in the hollow of her neck - her steady heartbeat against his lips calming his troubled soul as it always did as if by magic - then he slowly trailed his way to her waiting lips. He kissed her long and hard, then, breathless, pulled slightly back and smiled:_

_“Yeah, you are right. I know she will be. Let’s go back to bed, honey.”_

\------------------------------------

“Your Majesty, thank you for granting me audience. Let me introduce myself. My name is…” Perdita bowed her head as sign of respect as she stood in front of Dominar Rygel XVI’s throne in his highly ornate Audience Chamber.

“I know who you are.” The ancient Hynerian sovereign interrupted her, waving his little hand side to side to dismiss her introduction. “Lift that head of yours. Look at me.”

Perdita, although a little taken aback by his rude interruption first and then his abrupt request, did as she was asked and looked up at the old Hynerian.

Rygel XVI bent over forward to get a better look and peered long and hard at her.

“Oh yes. I would recognize those eyes anywhere in the Universe.” Rygel’s own rheumy eyes misted over for a moment before he regained his composure with a cough and a “hmph”. “You are Perdita. John Crichton and Empress Katralla’s daughter.” Rygel smiled at her surprise.

“Your Majesty… you know about me?” Perdita asked, astonished and confused. She had had no idea that the Hynerian Dominar knew of her existence, not to mention of her true parentage that had been kept a secret even to her for such a long time.

“Of course I know, silly girl!” Rygel said gruffly “I was there. I was there when it all happened. Empress Novia was one of my favourite rulers to exchange opinions with, by the way. I was sorry to learn of her demise.” Rygel coughed again to clear his old throat and then added: “Come closer and let me have a good look at you, my eyes are not what they used to be.”

Perdita moved forward and obediently submitted herself to his scrutiny. Scrutiny, which seemed to last for an eternity before it was finally broken by his wistful comments:

“Yes. You are indeed a Crichton if I ever saw one. And I have seen one, three to be precise. My godchildren, your half brothers and sisters. They…” But Rygel stopped talking when he saw the young woman’s expression of shock.

“I have...I have brothers and sisters?” Perdita managed to ask in wonder.

“Indeed you do. But first things first. I haven been expecting - well, hoping for - a visit from you for quite a while now…” He said, smiling smugly.

“But, Your Majesty, I only found out two monens ago about… about my origins. My mother, the Empress, told me… well she told me that you might know where I could find John Crichton. She remembered you, Your Highness, being his companion 100 cycles ago when he visited the Royal Planet. However I had no idea that you’d know who I was or…or, even more astoundingly, that you would be expecting me...”

“Oh pish posh! Of course I do know of you and it is only natural that I would expect you. Once you found out the truth, you were bound to make your way here looking for your sire.” Rygel sniffed and waved his hand at her again to dismiss her doubts.

“Well, you were right. And… and here I am. So do you know where my fa… where John Crichton is? Or has my long journey been in vain?”

“Oh my dear child. Come here. Sit here, yes, right here, by me.” Rygel patted the padded seat by his side which would normally be occupied by his First Wife but that he had wanted left empty for this audience that he had been looking forward to for so long. “There are so many stories I could tell you about your father. He had a full, exciting life. But, alas, his species’ life span is not as long as mine or your mother’s.”

“You mean…” Perdita found herself unable to end the question.

“Yes, I have no doubt that he can be found in the Hallowed Realm where he traveled to almost forty cycles ago.” Rygel awkwardly patted Perdita’s shoulder for comfort. “But don’t be sad. His memory lives on with everybody who ever knew him and loved him and in spite of his quirkiness - which was considerable - many did indeed love him. He was a good man - better than good - and a loyal friend and he would not - and I am sure of this as I’m sure that I am a worthy Dominar - he would not want you to be sad.”

Perdita’s blue eyes filled with tears as a sudden pain contracted her chest. One or two burning drops even managed to reach her cheeks before she angrily wiped them away, embarrassed by this intense show of emotion for a man she had never known and now would never know. She hated showing weakness to the Hynerian Sovereign. She hated feeling bereaved and lost when, logically, she had no real reason to feel so. Logic however had very little to do with what was going on inside her heart.

Rygel let her regain her composure, concealing a smile at the girl’s futile attempt at hiding her pain. She was so young. She had not learned yet that feeling pain for a loss should not be considered a weakness. She had so much to learn. He, for one, had keenly felt the loss of John Crichton - he still did even after all this time - and he had not ever tried to hide it. When his friend had passed, he had cried and mourned with Aeryn, with her children and grandchildren and with all of John’s old and new friends. Loss. It was such a hard lesson to learn. A humbling lesson if ever there was one.

When the girl regained her composure and made to stand up to leave, Rygel gently laid a hand on her arm, smiled up at her and said: “Stay a while… please? I have so much I would like to share with you about your father. For example, do you know what your name means?”

Perdita hesitated at first but then she sat back down beside the old Dominar. She so wanted to know more about the man that her mother had so glowingly described to her.

“No, I… I don’t. I only found out recently from my mother that it is a name that John Crichton wanted me to have. He told her about it before he left the Royal Planet and… and, when I was born, she gave it to me to fulfill his wish. What does it mean?”

“It’s a Human name. It means the Lost One.” Rygel paused and let her digest this information. “He never stopped thinking about you, his lost child. Not ever, not for a moment. That was the type of man he was.” Rygel let a tear fall from his eyes. He did not wipe it away but rather took Perdita’s hand and squeezed it to let her know that it was ok to feel the loss of a loved one. “He spoke of you often to his other three children. He wanted them to know that you were out there and that one day, long after he was gone, you may finally become part of their life. Like me, they have been waiting - hoping - for you to come find them for a while now.”

“They have? They… they really want to meet me?” Perdita could scarcely believe her ears. Siblings. She had siblings who knew of her and who wanted her to be part of their life!

“Of course they want to meet you. You are a Crichton And they are not far away. I will take you there myself.” Rygel offered, happy to be able to do this for her and for John Crichton and his dear family.

Rygel saw a myriad of emotions cross Perdita’s pretty face. Just like with her father, there was little that did not come shining through those blue, expressive eyes of theirs. He feared that she might refuse, overwhelmed by it all. He really hoped that she wouldn’t.

“So, are you going to be brave and come with me?” Rygel dared her, knowing that, even if she was only half as stubborn as her father had been, she’d be unable to refuse the challenge.

Perdita rubbed her bottom lip with her thumb while thinking the offer over - a gesture which made Rygel’s heart skip a beat in recognition - then looked straight at the Dominar and grinned a genuine Crichton grin before answering:

“Yes, Dominar. I will come with you. I may have been lost to John Crichton, but I do not have to remain lost to the rest of his - my - family.”

The End


End file.
